The Bake Sale
by Jessa L'Rynn
Summary: Complete! Dear Professor Dumbledore, When Fudge cuts your funding, Snape's suggestion may not be the safest to take: especially if it makes the Potions' Master cringe, too. Includes Snape, baffled Death Eaters, and a chocolate cake worth its weight in
1. Chapter 1

The Bake Sale

_Set in the Summer before Harry's Sixth Year_

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

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Chapter 1: Morning Meeting

Albus Dumbledore was a gentle soul, with kindly blue eyes that sparkled and twinkled and laughed with an ease so practiced it usually looked like the only expression he had. His voice was soft and patient, his smile the very image of helpful forgiveness. He dressed like a party, with half-moon spectacles for decoration. Though his long nose was extremely crooked, a legacy of his misspent youth, he moved with a calm serenity that could restore peace to any situation.

So it was perfectly understandable, when Dumbledore stalked into the staffroom looking as though he had swallowed a thundercloud and was about to spit lightning, that everyone in the room jumped up from their accustomed places and huddled together as far from him as they could get. As he paced back and forth at the front of the room, inanimate objects within his reach cringed, and the portraits of former professors muttered to one another. So powerful a wizard was Albus Dumbledore that a faintly pulsing white nimbus was fully visible surrounding him as he muttered quietly to himself and things that he brushed past jerked and fizzed and turned into other things.

The staff strained to hear what he was muttering. Had Lord Voldemort finally found a way to reach Harry Potter? Had another traitor emerged in the secret anti-Voldemort movement? Had someone stolen his teddy bear? "I'll bake sale him. Arrogant, pompus, self-aggrandizing, over-inflated TWIT," they heard.

Oh. Cornelius Fudge. The lame-duck Minister of Magic was obviously on his way out and he was straining to make his last few weeks or months in office as uncomfortable for everyone as possible. His offensive public questioning of Dumbledore's methods, his threats, his loaded suggestions, were at best offensively prying and at worst offensive. The Hogwarts staff wondered what he had done to the Headmaster this week. As Dumbledore's muttering and stalking continued, they nudged each other and tried to coax one another into asking.

"He likes you," Madam Hooch suggested to Minerva McGonagall.

"Not THAT much," Dumbledore's Deputy denied. "Severus, you do it - he NEEDS you."

"He might forget that, under the circumstances," Snape decided finally.

The whispering continued until finally they had managed to bully the half-giant Care of Magical Creatures professor into stepping forward.

"Oh, go on Hagrid, he wouldn't hurt you," snapped McGonagall.

"He couldn't hurt you," said Filius Flitwick, and everyone nodded although they secretly doubted it. If anyone could, it would be Albus Dumbledore.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Hagrid stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Professor Dumbledore, sir?" he said. The ancient wizard ignored him. "Erm... Headmaster? Sir?" The stalking and muttering continued. "Professor!" Hagrid bellowed, seeking Dumbledore's attention in the same way he might call a frazzled hippogriff.

The Headmaster stopped pacing, turned, and rounded on Hagrid, his eyes wide and his long white beard wild. Everyone gulped and fought the urge to duck.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bake Sale

_Set in the Summer before Harry's Sixth Year_

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

Chapter 2: Afternoon Delight

Dumbledore beamed suddenly. "Ah, Hagrid. I wonder if I might impress upon you for a favor?"

"O' course, sir," Hagrid said, and grinned. Everyone behind him heaved sighs of relief.

"Would you please go fetch the Minister of Magic and bring him to me in a small box?"

Everyone winced. "O' course, sir," said Hagrid, vaguely distraught. "Erm... what size box were yeh wantin'?"

Dumbledore made vague hand gestures - somewhere between two inches and two feet. He sighed. "Oh, nevermind," he said and ran a slender hand through his long silver hair. "I need a solution, not more problems."

Minerva found her courage and stepped forward. "What's happened, Albus?" she asked, as gently as she could.

Dumbledore sighed and, suddenly deflated completely. "He's cut our funding," he said. "I simply cannot afford to let even one program go, not for the sake of the children's education and, thanks to Cornelius' machinations, Hogwarts cannot afford to keep everything here up and running."

"Idiot," Severus muttered under his breath.

"What did he say?" Madam Hooch asked, "when you told him, I mean."

Dumbledore actually snorted. "He suggested we hold a bake sale."

Everyone looked at everyone else, horrified. Finally, McGonagall clapped her hands together in a decisive manner. "We'll simply outsmart him," she said.

"Pardon?" said Madam Pomfrey.

"Maybe not a Bake Sale, but we can hold a fund raiser. We can get some of the students to help. That way, we'll have plenty for operating expenses without depending on the questionable resources of the Ministry's current administration."

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment. "Minerva, I could kiss you," he said. McGonagall backed away sharply, but he seemed not to notice. "Everyone think of every idea you can come up with for a proper fund raiser and we'll meet back here this afternoon after tea."


	3. Chapter 3

The Bake Sale

_Set in the Summer before Harry's Sixth Year_

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

Chapter 3: Bait and Switch

Dumbledore stood before the blackboard, writing suggestions as they sailed his way.

"A talent contest," suggested Flitwick. "I'm sure everyone would love to hear Severus sing 'God Save the Queen' again." Snape sighed. He thought everyone had forgotten about the fiasco where he had been invited to perform at the opening of the 1980 Quidditch season. It was his last public appearance.

"How about a Quidditch tournament for our charity?" said Hooch. "We could get several of the students to coach and referee and some big names to fill in Houses with us - it might be highly successful."

"A sponsored walk."

"A candy sale."

"Corporate Sponsorship. What?"

"Owl drive."

"Broom race."

"Quiz bowl."

"Wizard chess tournament."

"Endurance challenge. What?"

"Library book read-a-thon."

"Inter-house cooking competition."

"A second chance 'School Ball'."

"Raise tuition."

"SEVERUS!" snapped McGonagall.

"What?"

"That is your THIRD inappropriate suggestion. Haven't you anything helpful to suggest?"

Snape sneered. "I suppose you could just auction everyone off on the Floo Network," he suggested caustically.

Dumbledore's eyes lit up. They caught fire and started to twinkle in that dangerously delighted way that had frightened more wizards than Lord Voldemort. "Severus, that's absolutely brilliant. I love all these suggestions, and we'll certainly try to implement them throughout the school year, but Severus, your idea is easiest to implement immediately."

"What? The Floo Network?"

"No, auctioning the staff," he enthused. Everyone looked at him in abject horror. "We'll each simply pick something to offer, summon some of the students to help us with flyers and advertising, and hold the auction in Diagon Alley at the end of the month.

"Can't we just hold a Bake Sale?" Snape whined. "I promise I won't poison anyone."

"Nonsense, dear boy, of course you would. I've eaten your cooking."

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Alright, now, PLEASE review - my husband isdesperate for your opinions - it's his first fic of any kind, so PLEASE!!! Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4

To all our delightful reviewers, thanks, it's really encouraging to have your cheers! Please continue to let us know what you think. I appreciate the suggestions and, while we have something much worse in mind for poor Severus, I assure you that all suggestions will be considered. We'll let you know more about what to suggest as we go along, don't want to give too much away right now. Oh. And the chapters aren't chapters per se – more a sort of "chaplets" – we're trying for scene to scene, with occasional related snippets.

Specific replies:

Droxy: Um… yeah. :-)

MysticSong1978: A recent poll in Witch Weekly magazine found that 99.7 of all bachelor wizards living with House-elves could not cook. We were using that as our assumption factor. I'm sure he can boil water without burning the bottom, though.

Cheeki: Did that help?

Sleeping Dragons: Like a letter campaign. Only with owls.

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**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

Chapter 4: Calling in the Cavalry

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen at #12 Grimmauld Place, dazed and worried at the sudden summons from Dumbledore that had brought them here, Ron and Ginny from the Burrow, Hermione from her parent's office, and Harry from Mrs. Figg's living room. When he arrived, Harry had sunk gratefully into a chair, brushing flour from his clothes and muttering under his breath.

"What happened to you, mate?" Ron asked him, surprised.

"I spent the whole morning helping Aunt Petunia. That group she's with - Society of Nosey British Housewives or some such - they're having a Bake Sale and I had to make two cakes and six dozen biscuits. She did the 'hard' part – keeping her ickle Diddykins from eating them all."

Aside from that brief glimpse of his old humor, Harry had done nothing since arriving at Headquarters but sit listlessly and look around, viewing everything with eyes that sparkled more than they should, and missing Sirius more than he had missed Hogwarts his first summer away from it.

The others watched him, even though it was painful, Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders tight against his to hold him upright, Ginny across from him, her hand stretched across the table to lay on his, silently offering him their strength as the four of them grieved the loss of a friend and life both wrecked and cut short.

Remus Lupin had been and gone, sitting literally back to back with Harry, whispering words of solace and comfort and sorrow that all seemed to help as Harry nodded and sighed and teared up and smiled. They had held each other up, something Hermione found to be astonishing, as the Professor had been very reluctant to touch Harry in the past. They had grieved together and somehow, it was what they both needed, because suddenly, Harry laughed and said, "Remember that night with Fred and George and the stew? I just noticed this." His fingers traced a deep hole in the wood of the table. "I remember the look on his face - he thought it was so funny."

They looked at him and smiled. "He loved to laugh," Harry said, finally. "He loved for people to laugh. Don't reckon he'd hold with all of this." The boy frowned again. "I'll put it aside for now," he resolved, "and I'll take it out of Voldemort later."

Ron tensed and felt the conviction, which in turn strengthened his. Wherever Harry was going, Ron would be with him, would support him, would get him there. The three of them were growing up much too fast, and some others with them. There was nothing anyone could do to change that, so all they could do was stick together and make it the best that they could anyway.

The Floo activated and Minerva McGonagall stepped out. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "We need your help."

All four of them looked at her, their faces stern, resolute, purposeful. "Anything you say, Professor," Ginny said firmly. "We're with you."

McGonagall looked at them strangely. "We need you to join us and several of your classmates at Hogwarts."

They nodded, inviting her to continue. She gave them an uneasy stare and held out a small portkey. "We're working on a project for Hogwarts and we need your assistance."

They rose to their feet and touched the portkey. "What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked nervously.

"We need assistance with a fund raiser." As the portkey activated and jerked them away, Harry heard himself sputtering with astonished indignation.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

Chapter 5: In for a Penny

"Couldn't they just have had a Bake Sale?" Hermione muttered gloomily, looking up from her book at the library table back down at her list.

"Nah," said Harry. "Too easy." He sighed. "Are you getting anywhere with that?"

"No," she admitted, finally. She looked up at Harry and Luna, and sighed. "Any ideas?"

They were on the finance committee with Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan. Their first job, they had decided, was to set an opening bid for each service. Hannah and Ernie were being enormously helpful by "researching," which translated into rifling through the stacks looking for places to snog in private.

"We could ask my father," Luna suggested. "He sets ad prices in the Quibbler."

Harry sighed. "Right then," he decided. "Let's figure that any job that stinks pays twelve sickles an hour, and almost anything these guys are going to have to do is probably going to stink."

"Brilliant," Ernie said, coming up next to them, holding Hannah's hand surreptitiously in his. "We were just checking with the publicity committee, Potter. I think you may want to head them off at the pass."

"Why me?" he demanded. He didn't want to have to be coordinator for this whole fiasco. That sadistic duty had fallen on the head of Ron Weasley.

There were future fifth and sixth years from three of the four houses. It was impossible to guess if the Slytherins had been invited and refused or not invited for their inability to cooperate.

"Well, so far, they're designing posters with you saying "I'm proud to support Hogwarts and you should be, too."

Harry sighed. "Ron!" he called.

The harried looking keeper came over, his eyes sparkling as he plotted out his next move in his head, and kept five different committees' progress juggling in his mind. Harry enjoyed laughing at Ron sometimes, but he also admired that mind. If Harry was a born leader than Ron was a born general - people followed both, but only one got you there on purpose.

"Please tell the fan club over in Publicity that Harry will not be giving autographs," Hermione said with some asperity.

"They can have mine," Luna offered. Everyone looked at her. She said it so earnestly and sincerely that you had to know her as well as Hermione, Harry, and Ron were coming to to realize that she was joking. They all three busted out laughing and Hermione hugged the younger girl impulsively.

"Boot's looking at you," Harry whispered to her and watched her blush. It was true. The Ravenclaw artist on the Staging committee would draw for a few moments, look up at Luna, smile, then bend back to his paper and repeat the same thing a few minutes later.

After putting in a solid twelve hours work, the committees went down into the Entrance Hall to take a break. When they went into the Great Hall, they found a nice little feast waiting for them on the single table in the center of the room, and several nice warm beds waiting along the walls. They wanted to see their common rooms but, as Dumbledore explained, the various Houses were closed for summer cleaning and it was best, anyway, if they spent plenty of time together.

As there were no Slytherins present to short sheet the beds or put spiders in someone's slippers, no one seemed to have a problem with this and they all climbed into beds near their house mates and friends, and looked up, happily, at the bewitched ceiling, showing the turning of the stars overhead.

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**Droxy** - you're terrific. It struck me so funny, I had to say something about it. ;-P I'm honored to be on your author alert. I'll get back to"Touch the Air Softly" as soon as my muse resurfaces - I know how it ends, but the rest of the middle is illuding me.My husband'sco-writing with me on this one, he doesn't usually do fics at all. And I promise you that Snape is in for his second worst nightmare, although what happens will be completely plausible, in character and, if at all possible, hilarious. He's so much fun.

We appreciate all your reviews and hope you enjoy what we bring you. Anyone want to help? We need ideas, folks, lots of good ones. One of the funniest scenes I have ever written for a fan fic came as an idea I picked up from a reviewer and I don't even think it was meant as an idea. So send in your ideas and your reviews.


	6. Chapter 6

The Bake Sale

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

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Chapter 6: Charge It

What the finance committee realized almost immediately the next morning was that they wouldn't really make a lot offering up only the staff, even if the remaining Death Eaters pooled their resources and bought Snape to get an honest days' work out of him. (Lucius Malfoy was still safely in Azkaban, so they couldn't yet bring those truly vast fortunes to bear.)

They called together all the committees and brainstormed for a while to try to figure out what to do to supplement the income from the auction.

It was Neville who, surprisingly, came up with the idea that, while they were auctioning the staff, they might as well auction other things as well. A few moments to admire his unlikely genius and then everyone was grabbing their parchments and heading for the owlery to beg their parents for a contribution.

Luna just smiled at Harry while most of the others cleared out. "Father can give a gift subscription to the Quibbler, I don't even have to ask, he would be proud."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose my parents would offer someone a free teeth cleaning," she said. "So I'm not asking - no wizard wants that."

Lavender nodded. "Sometimes its easier to be muggle-born," she said, nodding at Dean and the two Ravenclaw boys over at the next table - Boot and what's-his-name. Dean said something else to them and got up and came over.

"Good thing we don't have any Slytherins here," said Ron - he'd sent Ginny with their message - Harry figured he didn't want Hermione out of his sight.

"Yeah, can you imagine - 'The winner will receive a free Dark Mark and the opportunity of a lifetime in perpetual servitude of He-Who-Is-Hard-on-the-Help.'" Harry rolled his eyes. "Couldn't stand it, really."

"I wouldn't mind if they were auctioning off Malfoy's father," said Lavender, "as long as he didn't talk."

Hermione snorted. "Or breathe," she said.

"Yes, he's really evil when he does that," Ron agreed. "Who're we getting for announcer?"

"You should be the auctioneer, Harry," Hermione suggested. "That'd really draw a crowd."

Dean said what everyone was thinking - "Yeah, a crowd of Death Eaters."

"I was thinking," said Ron, "that we might want to just get a professor to do it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Or a former professor," he said, with a wide smile.

"But Lockhart's still in St. Mungo's," said Lavender.

"Yeah, but the guy we had in third year," said Dean excitedly, "that'd be cool - a werewolf."

Ron grinned at Harry as Harry scribbled a note on his parchment.

When Hedwig arrived, Remus Lupin read the note with consternation. He knew he could refuse, but Dumbledore would probably back him into it. He sighed and showed the note to Auror Tonks sitting at the table with him. "I don't know why they didn't just have a bake sale," he said.

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_What we now need is for suggestions of things for the other wizard kids parents to give. The kids in question don't have to have been mentioned at the set-up or in the novels, but please, keep it nice. Slytherins, Death Eaters, and/or Mary-Sue-and-friends need not apply. Plot bunnies may sign up! And although I get to sell the teachers, and I know whom I'm selling most of them too, your ideas are completely welcome and just might change my mind. (No, I am NOT selling Snape to Hermione.)_


	7. Chapter 7

As a compromise to all of you who are so annoyed with me about the length of these chapterlets, I will try to post two chapterlets at a time after this one. I can't thank you enough - especially droxy - for all the ideas. I've already used three of them in upcoming chapters. And now, on with the motley...

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**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

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Chapter 7: Down to the Wire

The last days leading up to the auction were maddening. The teachers were racing around Hogwarts compiling little legal pieces for the auction contracts they would sign. Each student was working all hours on his or her particular assignment. Nymphadora Tonks was making a nuisance of herself by assisting the auctioneer with his new identity and his lines. He had informed her in no uncertain terms that she was driving him insane. In turn, she had found an unlikely ally in Severus Snape, who assured the werewolf that it was a VERY short drive.

Hermione was laughing about that one as she counted RSVPs and calculated drinks. She had made a deal with Dumbledore - the Hogwarts House-Elfs could serve the refreshments at the auction, but they were to receive the next day off. Ron and Harry and some of the others had reluctantly allowed her to bully them into agreeing to do meals the next day.

Harry was supervising the last minute pricing of the donated goods with Ginny. Ron had been muttering about that for almost two hours and only Hermione knew the situation well enough to realize that his "angry older brother act" was just that - an act. She wasn't entirely sure she would have believed such conniving behavior of Ron and wondered if he was actually getting advice from his prankster brothers - or possibly channeling the ageless child spirit of Sirius Black.

Dumbledore was answering owls in the Great Hall - endless letters inquiring about the nature of this auction came to him from so diverse a selection as ministry workers, Daily Prophet reporters, WWN announcers, and one letter that seemed rather suspiciously likely to be from Lord Voldemort himself. He had a selection of students helping him with the letters, but that last one he'd handled the best way he could think of - he sent back a Howler of himself laughing merrily.

For that reason and several others, they decided to have the auction in Hogsmeade on the League Quidditch pitch. As the stage went up, he took enormous satisfaction in knowing that this was one of the most secure places in Britain and the Isles. He kept Harry backstage with Ginny and Arthur Weasley for protection, but doubted it would be necessary.

When Fudge arrived with his entourage, he looked at Dumbledore, utterly staggered. "Impressive, Dumbledore," was all he said. Dumbledore smiled insincerely at him, and barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the newly freed Lucius Malfoy, who stood smiling smugly behind Fudge's shoulder.

Minerva McGonagall, however, had finally had enough. She charmed Fudge's toenails to itch when she caught him some moments later, giving a Daily Prophet interview about how the Auction had been his idea. "Well, actually, I suggested they try a bake sale first, but then this idea came up and we just went with it. It's really a charming way to allow the community to give back something to the school that has given us all so much... Ouch." He spent the rest of the day wiggling his feet rather awkwardly and fidgeting.

When the appointed hour came around, a collective hush fell on the crowd and a charmed shadow fell over the stadium. Brilliant white lights came up pointing at the auctioneer's podium. Everyone applauded for a moment before it became apparent that no one was coming out.

A man's voice whispered from off stage, coarse and sharp enough to be heard over most of the area. "I'm not going out there, I look like a Las Vegas hotel."

A woman's voice suddenly hissed, "On your feet or by your hair, Remus, I couldn't care less."

There was a sharp noise, and suddenly a grinning announcer bounded out onto the stage, the lights catching the glitter from a jacket encrusted in ten thousand sequins, his silver pants giving off their own vibrant glow, and his eyes sparkling to outshine even that. He flashed a charming grin at the Witch Weekly section of the Press Box, ensuring himself a nomination in their annual competitions, and looked at the audience in a way that said "We're going to have a great time, all of us."

"Well, folks," the announcer began after the second moment of applause, "today, I get to fulfill a childhood dream of mine - I hope you don't mind if I take great delight in that fact. I always wanted to sell Severus Snape into slavery. But first, we've quite a few items of interest, so if you'll collect your lists and your numbers, we'll begin with..."

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Well, that's it – the mandatory cliffhanger.

**Oh NO!** Will Remus be trampled by a mob of Witch Weekly Makeover columnists who want to save a werewolf? (Could happen but won't!)

**The Fear!** Will Voldemort apparate into the audience and demand that Lucius come home and finish cleaning his room? (Too PG-13!)

**The Horror!**Will Snape race out on stage in his new pink muumuu and try to take over the microphone? (Too hideous for publication)

**The Terror!**Will there be aholocaust as the Mary-Sues and the fan-girls start a small bidding war that escalates into a major land war? (Won't happen. Drawing attention to them is, apparently, no cure for either!)

**The Suspense!** What will Dumbledore say when yet another of his secrets is revealed?? (This will happen!)

**The Thriller!** Will the reviews start pouring in?! (Yes, please!)


	8. Chapter 8

**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

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**Chapter 8: No News is Good News**

"...we'll begin with a few introductions!" Remus Lupin grinned insanely. He had taken three cheering charms and also Sirius's special "High without Drugs" potion and right now, he was feeling good, almost good enough to think that he wouldn't die of embarrassment tomorrow when he remembered this fiasco.

_'Someone should have turned Nymphadora over their knee years ago to prevent this sort of thing, but of course no one would try to put even a damp ounce of sanity into any member of that family. I swear, the only ones who aren't insane are criminally insane.'_

"I'm the Wild Werewolf and I'll be your auctioneer for this evening. I'll have several well known celebrities joining me this evening, including Albus Dumbledore." Lupin grinned and remembered something the Marauders had found out ages ago and used to blackmail Dumbledore into giving them candy. He didn't need the secret anymore, so what the heck. "That's right folks, Professor Dumbledore himself, leader of this, order of that, and record-setting ten-time winner of Witch Weekly's Bachelor of the Year award."

Dumbledore came out in his vivid crimson robes, grinning and waving to the crowd. He approached the podium, shook Remus's hand warmly and, without losing one drop of sparkle from his eyes or even actually moving his lips said "No more sherbet lemons for you, you sneaky, conniving..."

Lupin grinned even more widely than before if that was even possible. "So tell us, how did you clear up the Bachelor of the Year thing? Who's the lucky lady?"

"Oh, no they just barred me from proceedings as a professional," said Dumbledore. He turned to the crowd. "Thank you all, most sincerely, for coming. We hope you enjoy tonight's proceedings. Remember your purchase is a vote for your favorite teacher. Vote early and often!" He twinkled at them, blew kisses to the crowd, and vanished without anyone actually seeing where he went.

Lupin shook his head. He was going to pay for this one, but for now there were no worries. "First up, item 1. Brought to you by courtesy of Mr. Darius Lovegood in honor of his daughter, Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood, a year's subscription to the Quibbler. Now, I know what you're thinking - you can get this terrific and erm... informative periodical on every newsstand. Well, there's actually a special treat for any purchaser. Next week's cover story is about the Vampires in the Vrasta Vultures Quidditch team. Your first issue will be personally signed by famous Vultures and Bulgarian seeker, Victor Krum."

Krum walked out onto the stage, and Lupin rather thought his resemblance to Snape to be somewhat uncanny. The difference, of course, was that broomsticks were scared of Snape. Krum waved to the crowd while the reporters snapped their magic cameras in his direction. Even the Witch Weekly set, who could never decide what to do about Krum's appearance versus Krum's fame, were eyeing him breathlessly. He smiled cheerfully - as cheerfully as that grouchy seeming face could get - and then exited stage right.

Lupin sparkled at them. He had no intention of doing this auction in the traditional stuck up manner of the better auction houses. He and Tonks had agreed that it would be much more effective to be fun and friendly. "Now, opening bid is the actual cover price for twelve issues - 3 galleons. Who'll give me three galleons?"

Malfoy's number went up immediately. "Do I hear 5? Thank you, red lady. 10? Mr. Lucius Malfoy. 15? Thank you, Lady Blue. 16? Minister Fudge, my my..." So it went. When they got up to twenty-three galleons, someone dropped their drink on Malfoy's foot. "Lot 1 sold to 326 for 23 galleons." Malfoy scowled. Lupin made a half-way sober mental note to have him obliviated after this was over. No one wanted a string of Death Eater attacks caused by a sulky sore-loser.

Backstage, Krum turned to the committee and smiled at his young friends. "Herm-o-ninny? Why didn't they just have a Bake Sale?"

Potter rolled his eyes and laughed, which in turn amused Krum. Hermione giggled, which was almost enough to make him fall for her again - almost, but he was rather too smart to want his heart broken a second time. Ron Weasley made a whole series of barbarian gestures designed to threaten Krum away from "his" girl, somehow without notifying said girl of her possession status. Krum thought about suggesting he use a club and carry her back to his cave by her hair, just to see the fury fire all light up in Hermione's eyes, but decided she might be furious with him, instead of Weasley, which was a fate immanently to be avoided. So he rolled his eyes and, just to make Ron's night even more hellish, went to flirt with his little sister.

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Don't worry, I'll keep my compromise. The next one will go up this afternoon. 

Everyone repeat after me: Review.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

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Chapter 9: A Weekend for Two

Lupin grinned at the crowd and waved the flier at them. "That's how we're going to do some items. Other items, I'm going to let you have the floor. For our next item, lot number..." he rummaged through a fishbowl and his elbow and pulled out a number "36, we're going to open the bids and let you take it. " He sparkled. "Lot number 36 is a weekend stay for two at London's Wizard Hilton, given by Mr. and Mrs. Nyan Patil in honor of their two daughters, Ravenclaw Padma Patil, and Gryffindor Parvati Patil. As everyone knows, the Wizard Hilton is the finest establishment of its kind in the whole of England and weekend stays are quite the nicest little get-aways anyone can have. The witch or wizard winning this stay will, according to Mr. Patil, be staying in Minister Fudge's favorite suite."

Fudge mugged graciously at the crowd and waved for a second, before turning back to his shoes, which he had finally kicked off and was using to rub his toes for some reason.

"Opening bid is 50 galleons," said Lupin, "go to it."

Quite a few people tossed the price back and forth for almost ten minutes before the price reached 220 galleons and Hermione stepped out from backstage with a note for Lupin. He held up his hand. "We have an offer of 350 galleons from an anonymous bidder. Any takers?"

Lucius Malfoy muttered and sank back into his seat to sulk. If he wanted to pay that amount of money for a weekend at the Hilton, he decided, he'd just pay it. Besides, it wasn't like he'd want to spend that kind of time with Narcissa anyway, although he supposed he could give it as a gift for the Dark Lord. A wicked smile crossed his face. That would be trouble, no matter how you weighed it - he'd be mad because he didn't have a date, or he'd make some other Death Eater absolutely furious. Lucius shook his head and threw in the towel.

Lupin thumped the desk. "Sold to anonymous bidder for 350 galleons."

They went through three more items this way - a baby crib that rocked itself from the Boot family, a dragon-hide jacket from the Corner family, and a self-stirring, potion correcting cauldron (the kind that told you exactly what to put in when) from Zacharias Smith's family. When Neville Longbottom's gran bought that, Lupin could barely restrain his laughter. A raucous cheer went up from the Hogwart's staff section. Dumbledore was trying to hush them but the Potions master stood, grinning and cheering uncharacteristically while Madam Pomfrey held onto his arm to hold herself up from cheering and laughing so hard.

Lupin looked at them and the werewolf smiled. They'd had enough cutting up, he decided. And the crowd was starting to look bored. It was time.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to explain the next procedure to you, one we will be working with from time to time this evening. Our Hogwarts staff have each agreed to make a small demonstration of their skills. After their demonstration, you will be told what the staff member is offering and the opening price. Bidding will then begin. We will accept bids from the floor, from the student section, and from other teachers, as some may find the service offered to be of value to them. The buyer will be obliged to sign a magical contract with the professor detailing the agreement. Services will be rendered prior to the resumption of the next school year. Do we have any questions?"

Everyone looked around them, but no one rose to the occasion. With a smile, Lupin waved his wand and touched the front of his podium. A card appeared and began to shuffle a list of names, the names of the Hogwart's staff. He grinned and, when the crowd began to appear a bit breathless, he touched it again and the names slowed. He performed a brief exhibition of juggling the items on his podium. When the card stopped, so did he. "Our first victim... I mean, offer is..."

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Mr. Cliff Hanger, professor of What-next-ology!

So, ideas for demonstrations?


	10. Chapter 10

_I know I said I was going to put up two chapters at a time. And I did - unfortunately, the other is in my other fic. (Yes, if you're watching that one, it's been updated. The summary's better, too.) Please wait and I'll try to have the next one of this series up Monday._**

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**The Bake Sale**

_Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask._

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Chapter 10: The Price of Hooch in Hogsmeade **

Breathless with anticipation, the teachers waited quietly for the spinning to stop. When the name finally appeared, Lupin glittered madly at them and announced, too loudly even for this crowd, "Madam Rolanda Xiomara Hooch!"

Madame Hooch glared at her colleagues, mounted a broom she had brought with her, and rose above the heads of the crowd, smiling sternly and performing a series of intricate loops and parries with non-existent bludgers. Lupin sparkled and chattered on at the podium below.

"Many of you will remember her from her note-worthy days with the Holyhead Harpies. A championship Beater for 10 years,Madam Hoochwas particularly famous because no bludger has ever touched her. She is also credited with the Bludgers Forward 'Xiomara' variation of the Hawkshead Attack." She executed a particularly tricky roll followed by a steep dive, to the loud applause of the crowd below.

"Madam Hooch has been Athletics Director for 9 years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and is happily married to International Quidditch Referee Michael Hooch for 15 years." Waving jauntily, Madam Hooch tilted the broom toward the platform and topped out her speed for exactly 3 seconds. Flipping end for end to brake, she glided to a neat and tidy landing right beside Lupin's podium. The applause was thunderous.

"Madam Hooch is offering proficiency lessons to you or the student of your choice. She guarantees that the student will be able to fly and fly well by the time she's done - even if they have trouble convincing their broom to hover."

Lupin turned to her and sparkled some more. "You look like a mirrorball," she snapped.

He was too hyper to be bothered, what with the potion and the cheering charms. He glowed. "And you look like a hundred Galleons," he purred charmingly.

"I can't think why we didn't just have a bake sale," she muttered.

"15 Galleons," someone in the audience shouted.

"15 galleons to number 46," said Lupin.

"18."

"Number 53," said Lupin.

"22."

"Number 13, thank you Mr. Malfoy."

"25."

Two minutes later, Malfoy got into a heated discussion with the woman behind him about whether or not it was acceptable for her to poke him with her shopping bags. By the time he turned around...

"Sold to Number 53 for 99 galleons," exclaimed Lupin cheerily. He grinned at the frumpy old wizard in the top corner of the stands and waved happily at him.

Madam Hooch applauded with the rest, and smiled as best she could. Hawk-like and looking slightly dangerous, she grinned at her buyer, for she knew him from old stories as the Wizard Archaeologist, Algernon Longbottom. She waved at Neville sitting beside him, and Neville cringed and waved back with a timid hand. She grinned, took her broom, and exited to go reclaim her seat.

Back on stage, Lupin touched his wand to the podium and the names again began to whirl. "That was fun," he burbled enthusiastically. "Let's play it again, shall we?"

Everyone cheered.

Lupin juggled some more things off his podium and stopped only long enough to touch his wand to the podium. He flipped the objects into a single-handed twirl and tapped it a second time. Gradually, it slowed. The crowd leaned forward to watch, whispering excitedly. "And the next contestant is..."

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Hope you like this one – she's hard to be sure of, of course, as even her name's in dispute – I threw this idea out to explain it. I like her a lot, you know. 


	11. Chapter 11

**_The Bake Sale_**

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

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**Chapter Eleven: Don't Sue**

"Filius Flitwick, come on down," exclaimed Lupin, in the style of a muggle gameshow host. His smile was becoming a little strained around the edges when a cheering little Flitwick rose majestically from his seat on a cloud of lambent air. He glided around the arena over the heads of the delighted guests, accompanied by a charmed chorus from all of his colleagues' hats. Snape seized his and glared the thing into silence. Dumbledore laughed at his and sang along.

Flitwick sailed over the crowd, now shooting little golden bubbles out of his wand. As they landed, they popped and said nice things about the person nearest them. The one next to Dumbledore said "You have a delightful manner." The one next to Snape said, "Your smile would astonish thousands." Dumbledore grinned and leaned over. "That's true, Severus," he said. One landed next to McGonagall and said "Nice Kitty." She snorted.

He coasted along, charming teacups and other hats, scarfs, and the seats in the entire third row into joining his song.

"Professor Flitwick is perhaps best known for the invention of the Fidelius Charm in 1936. His other accomplishments include a record seven gold medals in International Standards Dueling, 12 silvers, and 6 bronze, over a ten year period. Professor Flitwick had been Instructor of Charms at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since 1952, and Director of Charms since 1956. He is head of Ravenclaw House and a formidible adversary in any competition."

Flitwick floated down over the stage and the cloud covered the entire podium. As the cloud began to drift, the chorus rose to titanic proportion, shaking the stands as all the surrounding seats got into the act and began to sing along. There weren't any words, just a vivid loud humming of a particularly complex piece in sixteen part harmony. The cloud vanished along with the music, at last and Lupin was sporting a vivid new hair style, while Flitwick stood calmly at his side.

"Professor Flitwick is offering a week of his services to produce whatever charms are needed for your residence, office, or neighborhood. He promises to make to your life easier, and suggests that his offer might be the perfect gift for those newlyweds you know who are so hard to buy for."

"This is so much more interesting than a Bake Sale," squeaked the tiny professor, and added another, advanced cheering charm to Lupin's collection.

The former Defense Professor sparkled brilliantly, conjuring several balloon animals into existance and levitating them at children in the audience.

"25 galleons," a man's voice said in clipped tones.

Snape was surprised to realize that the man in question was not a parent or a Ministry Official, but the head of one of the largest British Wizarding publishing houses, Whizz Hard books.

"If I'm not mistaken," whispered Dumbledore, "that's Gilderoy Lockhart's publisher."

Snape nodded, having an idea what was going on now, as the bidding went up to 112 galleons.

Malfoy bid 125 and got distracted by an argument between his companion and some woman who swore she'd known him at Hogwarts.

"Sold!" exclaimed Lupin, "For 135 Galleons to Number 18."

Number 18 nodded and approached Flitwick immediately as he stepped down to rejoin the teachers. Snape found himself unable to resist listening in. As the tiny professor shook the man's hand, he introduced himself, just as Dumdledore had suggested, as Corriander Levine, of WhizzHard Books. "We're in a spot of difficultly," he said. "Someone in a high place has a friend who's become a werewolf, recently. Unfortunately, the Lockhart book 'Wanderings with Werewolves' seems to imply that there is a cure for the condition, an enormously complicated charm."

Flitwick nodded. "I've heard him speak on the subject," was all he said, though even the immense courtesy of the tiny professor could not keep all of the cynicism of such a statement out of his voice.

"Well, we need someone to find that charm. We fully intended to hire the best Charms expert in the country anyway, but every one of them insisted that he had learned everything he knew from you."

Snape watched with horror and fascination as Flitwick walked away with Levine. He shook his head and turned back to Lupin on stage. It was amazing what some people would do to avoid a law suit.


	12. Chapter 12

_Well, I finally got around to updating this fic. It's a lot of fun, so I only write on it between other things. Still, I hope you enjoy it; I'm having great fun with it._

_Once again, thanks to past reviewers for their great suggestions. If you have any, or if you don't, review, review, review._ **

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**The Bake Sale**

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

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Chapter 12: The Final Frontier 

Lupin went on to auction off a complete set of Celestina Warbeck WDs (wizarding disks) including an autographed rare disk of B-sides. (Her rendition of "Please Help Me I'm Falling 'Quidditch Mix'" was impossible to get anywhere else, and everyone wanted it, as well as the pretty ballad from her early years, "Love Spells Loneliness".) It went for considerably more than expected, even by Madame Warbeck, who deigned to drop in, but couldn't sing - it was against her contract. These were generously donated by the wizarding music moguls of the McMillan family, in honor of their son, Ernie, of Hufflepuff.

Josephine Zabini, in honor of her daughter, Amelia, of Ravenclaw, and son Blaise, of Slytherin, donated a fine set of monogrammed silver from her shop in Wales. Jack and Jasmine Moon, in honor of their children Rosemary(a seventh year Slytherin), Sage (a fifth year Ravenclaw), and Timothy (a second year Gryffindor), donated a magnificent selection of herbs and spices from their wizarding cooking shop in Diagon Alley.

After that, he couldn't take it any more and had to offer up another professor. This time, he cast his spell on the podium, but hid the results with a massive shower of fireworks. As the fireworks cleared, he made his voice sound all hollow and impressive - or as impressive as it could when he was obviously trying very hard not to giggle audibly. "Your time has come, Professor Sylvia Sinistra. Step forward."

Sinistra sighed and rolled her eyes. She rose to her feet, her face showing apparent concern over the tricks pulled by her colleagues, and fluffed her dark curls briefly. Then she flicked her wand in the briefest of gestures.

The lights went out. The whole area grew pitch black and even the suddenly pale faces in the audience didn't show through the almost palpable darkness. Then, very suddenly and astoundingly, right in the middle of the arena, night came on.

Hermione, because her parents had always expected her to become a high level researcher, had been to a planetarium before. She now decided that it was absolute trash compared to this, summoning the entire galaxy into sparkling, diamond studded existance right in front of them. The stars spun and danced overhead and around them and slowly, very slowly, backed away, until the scene displayed was an obvious rendering of the night sky that would be overhead later in the evening.

"Professor Sinistra began her career in Astromancy in the Department of Mysteries. We can't tell you what she did there, because she can't tell us. But she came out of that job a world renowned expert on all things astronomical."

Tiny stars went soaring through the arena, a flaming swarm of them, a hundred shades of glory between heliotrope and painful white, in a fae dance of majesty. As they circled, they split off one by one, and went to light over the heads in the stadium glittering down their frozen flames upon the audience below. Hermione gasped at the minature blue monstrosity that glowed over Harry, and the silent terror in blinding white over Ron. Ron gestured and she grabbed her pocket mirror to look.

"Professor Sinistra is the inventor of Wizarding Stellar Timing, the most precise spell timing known to date. She has been with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since 1974, when she joined as Director of Astromancy and Astronomy."

In the mirror, the star over Hermione was a vivid golden menace, tiny but, in scale to Ron's and Harry's, she knew it would be huge. Then, before she knew what was happening, it began to spin, go crimson, and flash enigmatically at her in the mirror.

"Professor Sinistra is offering a week of her time to perform whatever astromancy you and each member of your household may require. She guarantees that all your spellwork will improve if it can be improved upon at all."

All the stars in the entire arena exploded in a titanic eruption of vivid light that banished away the night she had created and, as the blackness cleared, Sinistra became visible, standing at Lupin's shoulder, using her wand to turn his levitating juggling balls into little balls of fire.

Ron cheered loudly. "That was way more wicked than a Bake Sale!" he shouted over the roar of the crowd.

Ginny and Harry were now whispering quietly to each other and turning occasionally to grin at Hermione or Ron, with matching wicked smiles on their faces. "Pay attention, you two," she chided very quietly. They waved her over.

In the audience, they could see little Tiberius Ogden and his friend and fellow Wizengamot member, Griselda Marchbanks, corner Lucius Malfoy, apparently to badger him for a private contribution, because he kept pulling out his purse and then putting it back again as they shook their heads.

"Dumbledore's got it all figured out, then, to keep him from winning?" said Hermione quietly.

"Yeah," said Ginny, "a different person every time is supposed to distract him. I think they're doing a good job so far."

"Great," said Ron. "Who won?"

"No one yet," said Harry. "It's down to Daedalus Diggle and some weird looking guy in green... nevermind, Diggle's won."

Lupin's gavel could be heard rapping the stand. "Sold, folks, to Mr. Daedalus Diggle of the 'shooting stars over Kent' fame, for one hundred thirty eight galleons." Sinistra moved to step off the stage, but Diggle ran up to join her, gesturing animatedly as he did.

As everyone who was anyone in the entire wizarding world looked on, Daedalus Diggle dropped to his knee and produced a small velvet box. Whatever was in it sparkled every bit as much as anything Sinistra had produced earlier. She looked at it, then at him in astonishment. Lupin moved closer and held the magical microphone where she could say, "YES, oh, you silly fool, yes!"

The crowd broke out into thunderous applause.

"Correction, folks, that's one hundred thirty eight galleons, a diamond ring, and a lifetime of servitude."

Lupin grinned and tried to dodge, but her third blow landed with a resounding crack.

Even Snape was caught clapping for that.


	13. Chapter 13

_Guys, we can't tell you how much we appreciate the fun reviews for this story. Everyone's being so great! Please keep it up, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It may end up being my favorite! Review, review, review..._**

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The Bake Sale

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

_Chapter 13: Down the Garden Path_

Whatever Flitwick's charm had done, it was holding Lupin at a pretty steady (and high) level of insanity. He did an astounding and increasingly difficult series of back flips across the stage, followed up with a few other rambunctious and completely dangerous stunts, all while chattering an endless stream of very, very bad werewolf jokes. "A goblin, a werewolf, and a grouchy Potions Master walk into a bar..." he started.

Tonks finally put in her appearance on the stage to interrupt him now, carrying an autographed pair of books, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages. Lupin stopped to stare at her. In fact, there was every chance that anyone male, breathing, and not blind would stop to stare at her at this point. She was wearing as many sequins as Lupin. She had carefully tinted her hair a similar color to his. Her smile was as white, as wide, and as radioactive. Still, she had taken these common things and twisted them up with her metamorphmagus abilities and come out so staggeringly beautiful that she could cause high blood pressure.

Beacause Tonks' co-hosting abilities seemed to get a great deal of extra money out onto the stage, Lupin kept her through the donated books - the astonishing gift of Madam Irma Pince, Hogwarts Librarian (who no doubt considered it a fair price not to be forced to catalog some ancient Pure-blood library for the sake of a few galleons). She was the perfect presenter for the individually selected set of hair-care potions from celebrity stylist Trace Abbot in honor of his sister, Hannah. And with her there, everyone was delighted with the idea of fine, white Egyptian cotton linens donated by the Connor family because of their daughter, Leigha.

"Remind me to choke Dumbledore," Tonks murmured in her most dulcet tones when he finally let her leave the stage. "Next time he just needs to leave off and have a ruddy bake sale."

Lupin tugged her to him, kissed her daintily on the lips, ducked when she tried to slap him, and turned his wand to the podium for the next professor. "Round and round we go," he intoned gleefully. He didn't mention it, but he was starting to get on his own nerves. By this point, even Sirius Black would have calmed down.

"Madam Pomona Sprout!" he announced in an echo that rebounded from one end of the pitch to the other.

Once again, there was music. Sprout rose from her seat, no longer the dumpy, slightly silly looking witch Hogwarts knew and loved, but easily recognizable as the powerful equal of all thus far seen.

"Professor Sprout is the author of the best selling series 'Magical Gardens on a Mundane Budget' and served five years as Gardening Editor of "Magical Homes and Gardens," where she can still sometimes be found to make a guest appearance. Madame Sprout often donates many of her summer hours to the design and care of the Potions Gardens for St. Mungo's hospital."

A flick of her wand, and every where around them, the quidditch pitch, the fields behind them, even the spaces in the stands, erupted with greenery. A second flick and the whole surrounding countryside astonished itself with flowers, late blooming glories and early spring delights bursting forth completely out of season, all hers to command. Magical music ignited from every corner as the various singing and instrumental plants began a hymn of praise to their benefactor. In those moments as she moved forward, and everywhere her feet fell and everywhere her hand touched was suddenly graced with living glory, it was easy to imagine her as the goddess whose name she bore, happy at last, and bringing spring with her in her joy.

Dazzled, Lupin laughed out loud and pitched his announcements ever louder. "Professor Sprout has been Director of Herbology and Horticulture at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry since 1972 and has served as head of Hufflepuff House since 1981."

A flowering vine of immense proportion burst forth from the ground in front of the stage at the lightest touch of Professor Sprout's aura of living magic. To the gasps and shrieks of the crowd, it snatched her up, coiled delicately around her and placed her daintily on the stage. Then, it burst into magnificent flower and faded itself out.

"Professor Sprout offers one week of her time to design and build a magical garden for your home. No magical home is ever complete without it's own beds of herbs and flora, and Professor Sprout will help you change that."

The music rose to a dramatic crescendo then slowly, like the coming of autumn, faded away, leaving a silent and awestricken crowd to snatch up the numbers quickly in hopes of growing even a quarter of such wonder at their own homes.

The bidding war was fierce, this time, as amazed magical families and the delighted parents of muggleborn children all tossed in at least once. Snape severely annoyed Lucius Malfoy by outbidding him at 75 galleons and when he did it again at 125, Lucius actually came down through the stands to discuss it. It was quite humorous to those nearby to listen to the two arguing in vindictively polite terms and trading snark for snark.

In the end, the winner was completely unexpected. Lupin dropped his gavel at last to the sound of thunderous applause while Hagrid stood up and took a bow. "It'll be the perfect gift for Olympe," he confided in McGonagall as he sat down.

The stern animagus had to, for once in her life, agree with him.

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**The House of Ravenclaw has no record of having been told the name of the Ancient Runes professor. Anyone know it?**


	14. Interlude

_A/N: I've decided to continue this after an idea suddenly hit me out of the blue one evening when I was supposed to be doing something useful. Thanks to a surprise reviewer, I realized that the timing couldn't really be better. This is now, of course, completely AU. I don't know if anyone will still read this, but if you do, review, and I promise the next chapter will be out almost immediately. The chapter title was taken from a book by John M. Ford. All previous disclaimers, of course, still apply. I have not yet awoken as JK Rowling and can only hope to someday make "reasonably wealthy contemporary" status._

**The Bake Sale**

_Interlude: The Only War We've Got_

Hermione sighed. "It's our turn next to distract Malfoy," she said grimly, as Lupin auctioned off a complete set of league quidditch posters from the Smith family, in honor of their son, Zacharias of Hufflepuff.

"Git," muttered Ron. "Oh, sorry, Hermione," he added, just before she could turn on him with a blistering tirade, "what were you saying?"

She looked to Ginny as though she was chewing her tongue, but evidently, Ron's apologetic grin won out, because she said, "Oh, Ron," in that goofy way and smiled sappily at him. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, who nodded with a wicked grin on his face.

"What were you saying, though?" interrupted Harry. Ron and Hermione both started and looked at him, surprised. Ginny bit her knuckle to keep from laughing in their faces.

"Well, we're supposed to distract Mr. Malfoy next."

"Just send Harry out there," suggested Ron. "That'd shock him. He'd have to be dead stupid to try to attack Harry in front of all these people."

"I'm not going."

"Wish we had a fellytone," said Ron. "Then we could call him and tell him what a creep he is."

"Hey, Hermione," said Harry, "have you got your cell phone your parents gave you?"

"Yes, but it doesn't work here."

"We'll just have them hold it up and say they have a phone call for him. Wish we could talk on the other end, though. That'd be funny."

Ginny's eyes glittered. "Or we could do one better." She took the phone and gestured Hermione into the corner with her.

As the girls were chatting - or plotting evil, from the looks of them - Arthur came over to hand Ron the running total figures. Ron whistled low and showed them to Harry, who grinned.

At the podium, Lupin had finished auctioning off a small porcelain doll charmed to sing sweet little lullabies, donated by the family of Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw, and a designer broomstick from the Chang family, in honor of Cho and her soon-to-be-first-year brother, Taro.

"Her dad's a designer for Comet Brooms," Hermione said as she came back over, now carrying two identical phones. Harry just shrugged, much to Ginny's surprise.

"What have you got there?" he asked instead.

"A plot," Ginny said with a wicked grin. "Can you get Tonks' attention?"

Lupin had just called for silence again in the auditorium, and explained that it was time for an intermission, during which the House Elves from Hogwarts would be serving snacks at the various booths about the stadium. As soon as that was over, he added, they'd be auctioning off their next hapless unfortunate.

"Great, we can set this up over the break. Tonks, get over here!" Ginny yelled as the crowd set up a great roar of bustling noise.

"Wotcher, Ginny," she said as she approached them, only tripping over her own two feet once and Lupin twice. "Gotta go help the announcer. He says the silver trousers are starting to chafe."

Ron and Hermione stared at her in horror and Harry laughed, though somewhat shrilly. Ginny grinned. "I'll let you get back to your... um... duties in a sec. When Professor Lupin announces the next candidate, I need you to do something for us." They all leaned in close and whispered to each other, punctuated by giggles from the girls, a one loud guffaw from Ron.

As Tonks set off with one of the phones, Harry looked at Ginny nervously. "Are you sure this will work?" he asked.

She tilted her face up to him and mimed looking over a pair of spectacles. In an absolutely perfect impression of Minerva McGonagall's voice, she said, "I think this will be much more educational than a bake sale, Mr. Potter." Then, she laughed and said, "Watch and learn."


	15. Chapter 14

**The Bake Sale:**

_Chapter 14: All's Fair in Love and War_

As the crowd finally found their way back to their seats, Lupin bounded back out onto the stage, dressed much more conservatively in a Muggle tuxedo with tails and a black top hat. Tonks came tumbling after, clad in a matching tuxedo and hat, except that instead of trousers, she wore a very short skirt and rather high heels. She was carrying a silver tray and, at a nod from Lupin, stepped off the stage and into the audience.

"Welcome back, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the little break, because we'll be moving right along to our next Professor." He flourished his wand at the podium and, pausing for only five seconds, tapped it again for good measure. It slowed to a stop, and everyone applauded so loudly, he could hardly be heard over the noise.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, your number is up."

McGonagall stood, made a stern, sour face at Lupin, and then seemingly disappeared. What she had done became apparent almost immediately as her small, gray animagus form jumped from patron to patron to reach the back of the room.

"Professor McGonagall has been teaching at Hogwarts for just over 43 years. She began her career as Professor of Transfiguration and proceeded to the position of Director of Transfiguration before her first full school year as Professor began. She became Head of Gryffindor House in 1960 and Deputy Headmistress in 1965."

Minerva had reached the back of the stadium by now and began her transformation back into her natural form. By the time she had returned, however, her skills were already becoming obvious. She had altered her robes while she changed, appearing now before every stunned eye in a cloud of gossamer, all crimson and gold. Her jet hair whipped free of its customary bun and a gold tiara appeared, crowning the flowing black cloud in regal Gryffindor splendor. A single flick of her ebony wand produced an impossible result - her wand itself tranfigured into a golden scepter, topped with a bright ruby that glowed and sparked with the force of her titanic magic. There was a loud gasp from the crowd, then shocked silence.

Lupin cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse with wonder. "Professor McGonagall was first trained in transfiguration by Albus Dumbledore. During World War Two, she served as a Hit-witch and bodyguard to high level wizarding and Muggle dignitaries."

Minerva borrowed a tea cup from a nearby house-elf and, with a single twitch of her hand this time, caused it to enlarge. She waved her wand at it and it began to change into a glimmering throne-like affair, all polished stones and shining lion's head medallions, with deep velvet cushions and no visible means of supporting itself. She took a dainty seat, somewhere between a queen enthroned and a girl on a swing, and rode her creation forward, transfiguring various things as she floated down the aisle. She converted some of Lupin's little balloon animals into stuffed toys, changed plain work robes into works of splendid art and finally, just before she reached the stage, conjured an enormous cloud of butterflies that swirled around her and hid her and the stage from sight.

Beneath this jewel colored beauty, Lupin spoke again. "In her free time, Professor McGonagall writes articles for _Transfiguration Today_ and plays Grand Master's level wizarding chess tournaments, where she holds the witches' record."

The cloud of butterflies flew ecstatically off into the warmth of the late summer afternoon, and McGonagall stood on the stage at Lupin's side, no stern faced school teacher, but a mythical creature of moonbeams and wishes, a delicate fae goddess all glorious for wandering ethereally through a Scottish summer night.

"Professor McGonagall offers one week of her time to perform any and all of that valuable transfiguration work that so many of us require but so seldom have the time to complete properly."

The applause was thunderous. Lupin bowed to her, humbled. "We all used to be in love with you, you know," he whispered, unashamed. "This is why."

Minerva rolled her splendid eyes at him, and set her tea cup on the podium. "At least we showed Fudge what he can do with his Bake Sale."

Lupin nodded and opened the floor for bidding, while Minerva smiled cheekily at Fudge, who was worrying at his feet and causing such an enormous distraction in his section that no one was getting any bidding done, not even Lucius. Tonks didn't even have to step in with the next distraction, because Fudge was doing a marvelous job of it all on his own. Because Lucius hadn't been out of Azkaban all that long, he was apparently determined to stay on Fudge's good side by helping. Fudge, apparently, didn't trust the named Death Eater so much as he pretended because he wouldn't hold still as Lucius tried to work out what hex had been used.

The bidding had already raised two hundred galleons when a soft, deep voice spoke over the crowd, offering three hundred galleons flat. Minerva and Lupin gaped at the speaker, who smiled innocently to himself, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Only two bidders continued to raise, so he spoke again, and this time his voice, though still gentle, brooked no defiance as he offered 500 galleons.

Lupin banged his gavel with a tranquil smile. "Sold to Professor Albus Dumbledore for 500 galleons." Minerva floated daintily back to her seat, but her green eyes were a million miles away. When she reached Dumbledore's side, they nodded to one another briefly, and took their seats side by side. One would have to know them, Lupin realized, as well as they knew each other to understand all that passed in the moment their eyes met, but it was a secret that their faces kept well and their voices never shared. Tonks caught his eye then, and tilted her head toward them, a wistful smile on her face. Bewildered and stunned, Lupin could only smile back at her, and wonder.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated with my respect to MMADfan, TartanLioness, Athena G, Hogwarts Duo, Morgan72uk, mugglemin, Quill of Minerva, gahhMinerva, and the rest of you who liked this chapter or, in your way, inspired it. I bet you can guess who you are. ;-) 


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Simple Gifts**

Lupin gave the audience a few moments to calm down, especially giving the Witch Weekly section time to find their seats. They had gone absolutely crazy with questions no one was going to answer, but Lupin was too calm for them, letting them know that something different was in the offing.

"Several of our Professors here have other work that consumes their time, even during the summer months. They have each offered to donate rare items and services that you can only receive from highly skilled professionals. In this section, we will be auctioning off those lots, one at a time."

He turned to face another portion of the audience, really checking to see if things had calmed down around the Minister and Malfoy. He was quite saddened to discover it had and signaled to Tonks with a barely noticeable gesture. She nodded softly and began making her way through the stands. Meanwhile, Hagrid had stepped up and brought out a large golden package that more closely resembled a doll house than a cage.

"Our first item is a decorators set of champion fancy fairies, donated by the Keeper of the Keys, Professor Hagrid. As you can see, these FFC registered fairies come in a variety of rare and unusual colors and, if properly bred, can be used to brighten and beautify your home and garden for many years to come or shown in Fairy Fanciers competitions the world over. Professor Hagrid has included as part of this lot a copy of "Fairy Fancier: The Definitive Guide to Extraordinary Fairies" co-authored by Gilderoy Lockhart and Lacey Weng, autographed by Mr. Lockhart."

"'Cuz what do I want wi' summat like this, eh?" whispered Hagrid for Lupin's ears only. "Thought I'd never get ridda th' little blighters. Glad we did this insteada th' bake sale."

Meanwhile, back stage, Harry and Ginny were debating whether to go ahead with their plot. "Heck, let him buy the wretched little beasts," said Ginny.

"No, he's not allowed to buy anything."

Tonks, however, seemed to have other ideas with their plans - or rather, her feet did, as she tripped going down the stairs and spent the rest of that particular auction hunting everywhere for the dropped phone. In the audience, Fred and George rescued them by using the extraordinarily simple trick of lobbing paper cups at Malfoy's head from all over the stands. (It was simple because any idiot could do it, but extraordinary because Fred and George usually resorted to much more complex measures.)

When Hagrid had gratefully relinquished doll-house and book into the trembling hands of an ecstatic Gladys Gudgeon, Lupin conjured up a another small display of fireworks and moved on to the next item.

"Where'd you get those little horrors, Hagrid?" asked Ron as the half-giant made his way around the backstage toward the back stairs.

"Oh, Lockhart gi' em ter me th' year he wuz here at Christmas in th' staff gif' exchange. Wuz gonna let 'em go, 'til he tol' me they wuz fancy purebreds."

"Why's that?" asked Hermione, puzzled. "Because they were too special?"

"Actuly, they're too weak, mean, an' silly ter live in th' wild if they allez been bred lik' this." He grinned sheepishly. "Yer gotta raise 'em better if they're lik' these ones, or they can't survive proper."

Arthur had wandered over and was grinning ruefully at this as well. "Story of my life, Hagrid," he said, much to the gamekeeper's blushing amusement. Arthur led him off, chattering animatedly about the garden gift Hagrid had bought earlier.

"I think that had to be one of the best lessons Hagrid's ever given us," said Ginny, sagely.

They all agreed with wide, shocked eyes, and turned back toward Lupin on the stage.

Lupin's voice lowered to a dark, mysterious rumble. "Professor Sybil Trelawney, seer and instructor of Divination at Hogwarts will create for the purchaser of this lot a birth chart, sun chart, and horoscope for the coming year for up to four members of the buyer's family." He grinned alarmingly and dropped his voice to a mystical whisper, adding eerie significance to his next words. "Let the buyer beware. Professor Trelawney, a descendent of the famed Cassandra Trelawney, does not hide what she sees. Heed her words to your own risk, and ignore them to your own peril."

"For pity's sake," Hermione muttered venomously.

"I oughtta let Lucius get that one and hope he has her do Voldemort's," said Harry, testily.

"It'd be your luck, she'd toss out one of her rare real ones," said Ron with a cheeky grin.

Harry grinned back. "Well, if she includes her usual rants about death and destruction, I'm all for it."

The lot sold surprisingly well to an Aberdeen witch Harry thought he recognized from somewhere.

"Isn't that the old bat who got sick that time on the Knight Bus?" Ginny asked.

"Probably," Harry agreed. "What's next?"

"The art and science of Ancient Runes is often misunderstood," said Lupin. "While charms can create similar items, Runes can be used to permanently enchant an object. Professor Bathseda Babbling offers this protective amulet, which will shield the wearer against basic jinxes and hexes." He held up a simple white pendant necklace with a beautifully stylized rune carved into it in sparkling silver.

Ginny peeked through the curtains. "Tonks is ready."

"Let her know to start," said Harry. "We can't let him get that, Merlin only knows what will happen."

Ginny flashed some kind of signal at Tonks, who opened the phone, held it up on the tray and immediately began crying out, "Telephone call for Mr. Malfoy!"

* * *

A/N: The names of the professors you never hear of come from a scribbled list on Jo's website. They're not guaranteed canon, but they're certainly closer than fanon, aren't they? You know me, canon-diva even in an AU. Please read, laugh, and review, and I promise the phone call first thing next chapter. 


	17. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: This is the chapter that popped into my head and prompted me to continue. Haven't you ever wanted to abuse someone like this and still stay feasible, if not viable, by canon? If so, this chapter's dedicated to you!_

* * *

_**Chapter 16: Call Me**_

"Telephone call for Mr. Malfoy," Tonks called, her voice carrying carefully into the Minister's Box without interrupting Lupin too much. Lucius had just bid 85 galleons on the little runic amulet and they all knew he had to be stopped quickly. "Hey," she called, clambering into the box without falling even a little bit for once, "aren't you Lucius Malfoy? Only, I've got a Lord Voldy-something on the phone for you."

Lucius gingerly accepted the phone, turned it six or eight different ways and finally held it up to his ear right, following repeated obscure gesturing from Tonks and utterly incorrect and unhelpful advice from the Minister. She grinned at this, even as the Minister realized what he was doing and went very pale. Stepping a little away from the recently released Death Eater, she tossed an obscure gesture at Lupin, who signaled vaguely to the crew back stage.

Harry held the phone gingerly. "Not sure if I can do this," he muttered.

"I'll handle it," Ginny said. "I know his voice entirely too well, myself."

"It's changed a bit," Harry said hesitantly. He'd heard Ginny's voice impressions before but he'd never heard her do a man's voice.

"Really, how so?" she asked, sounding more like Hermione considering a new book than a prankster about to scare a Death Eater out of his shorts.

"It's - I dunno. Higher, colder. Deader."

"Got it," Ginny said.

The charmed phone suddenly started squawking. "Hello?! Hello, Lucius Malfoy speaking!"

"Don't shout," Tonks' voice suggested, apparently quite nearby.

Ginny's sweet, pale pink lips parted, and a voice quite unlike her own came flowing from her innocent mouth. "Hello, Lucius, my slippery friend."

Every single hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up.

At the podium, Lupin's gavel went down. Through the complex charms, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could all hear Lucius stuttering through trying to properly acknowledge his lord and master without giving himself away to his pawn and puppet.

"Now, Lucius, is that any way to speak to me?" said Ginny in a vaguely threatening, bantering voice.

Harry just stared at her, appalled. Meanwhile, Lupin on stage was holding up a small, golden lantern with a delicate, phoenix-like design on the framework.

"I'm in the presence of... well, you did ask me..."

"Ah, yes, so you are at the auction, then. Good."

"Yes, it's going quite splendidly for dear old Hogwarts, sir. Dumbledore's offering's just come up."

"Are they auctioning off that muggle-lover, then?" Ron snickered as she said this. "Good, buy him for me."

"No, he's auctioning off a lamp burning with Gubraithian Fire."

"No doubt it's a trick."

"But sir," Lucius started.

"It's a trap, I tell you. And I am not paranoid!" Harry was starting to grin a little half-heartedly. "Don't try to tell me you don't think I am. I can tell what you're thinking, Lucius."

Lucius' voice got rather high. "You can?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Of course you can," he agreed in a much more normal, but still unsteady tone of voice.

"Tell him to bring you some ice cream," Ron whispered, forgetting that the hear-all charm only worked their way.

"Who's with you?" Ginny demanded with a quiet nod of her head in acknowledgment of Ron's request. Hermione just stood there with her hand over her mouth. It was very apparent that she'd had no idea exactly what Ginny was plotting.

"Pettigrew," Lucius whispered.

Harry's hand flicked to his wand immediately, but Ron pounced on him. "We'll get the little bastard, don't worry." Harry struggled for a moment, then sighed and breathed deeply. He nodded to Ron and relaxed in his hold. Ron watched the smaller boy quite closely for a minute, then released him.

"Send a message to Dumbledore," Hermione muttered, "as soon as we're done here, we'll round him up."

"Tell him when he gets back that I'd rather like a foot massage," said Ginny, her lips now curling wickedly. "And I really don't care for the pink bubble bath, so have him pick up some green."

"Bub... bubble bath m..my... er, sir?"

"Yes, Lucius, are you deaf? And bring me something chocolate," she added petulantly. Harry gaped at her, trying to decide what was funnier, the Dark Lord demanding chocolate or the Dark Lord whinging.

"Um... are you... feeling alright?"

"Would I be demanding chocolate if I felt alright?" Ginny demanded testily. "What else is there on the block?"

"Well, they've moved on to a magical first-aid kit and there are a few odds and ends left on the list, as well as Snape and some witch called Vector."

"Never heard of her. Is she pretty?" Harry now doubled over with suppressed laughter. Ron was rolling on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks, while Hermione just stood there, looking as though she had been hit by the Knight Bus -twice.

Lucius could be heard sputtering on the other end of the line. He seemed to recover himself, though, with difficulty. "I couldn't say, er... sir. I think she... um... might be?"

"Oh, good. Can she cook?"

"I expect better than Severus."

"You don't like his cooking because you don't like curry. You're silly and your mind is as fuzzy as my yellow bunny slippers. It's fine. How about a pie?"

"Er..." Lucius was again clearly flummoxed by the change of subject. "I... er... listen, this is an auction, not a bake sale."

Ginny was clearly close to losing her cool to a fit of giggles, so she pretended to lose her temper. "Buy me baked goods from that auction or don't come back," she hissed sibilantly, an amazing feat when only one word had an 's' sound in it. "And we all know what happens to you when you don't come back," she added, a cold, high-pitched threat. Then she clicked the phone closed and collapsed on the floor between Harry and Ron, laughing weakly.

"I want to wash my mouth out," she said finally, to the sound of thunderous applause in the audience. Apparently, Lupin had finished that section of the auction and was preparing to torture another professor.

"That was the most amazing thing I have ever heard," Harry whispered, taking her hand. They gazed at each other, completely awestruck.


	18. Chapter 17

**_The Bake Sale_**

**Chapter 17: Towing the Line**

Lupin shot off a huge shower of confetti that rained down over his platform and, in landing, revealed the name of the next teacher. Both of the two remaining candidates winced, one because he suspected he had been deliberately left for last, and one because she really hadn't been looking forward to this. How did one show what one's clever talent for advanced calculus could do?

"Professor Septima Vector, you are summoned," Lupin declaimed in elegiac tones that rumbled and echoed throughout the stands.

A delicately beautiful witch, black of hair and eye, rose from her chair between Snape and Sinistra, her body seeming to move like quicksilver with her every gesture. She gestured with her wand and a single golden line connected to the back of the arena, where she herself stood only seconds later.

"Professor Septima Vector," continued Lupin politely, "began her Arithmancy career at Hogwarts itself when she began serving as a teaching assistant to her Arithmancy professor in her seventh year. She left Hogwarts with the highest N.E.W.T score ever to be obtained in that subject. Over the course of the next two years, she took her Mastery under the aegis of Dr. Chance Mallory of the Las Vegas School of Applied Advanced Magicks. She returned to Hogwarts upon the death of her first mentor and accepted the Arithmancy Professorship in 1980."

She cast a quick spell and the whole arena was veiled by bands of light. Objects began to shift along the beams, the stadium seats converting topologically into comfortable, delicate chairs and plush, inviting sofas.

"In 1985, she took a sabbatical to study with an Egyptian-based research team sponsored by Gringott's Bank, where she met and eventually married Alonzo Vector, whom she assures us is still her one true love."

The bands of light began to glow strangely now, and the seats that had been transmogrified were now moving slowly along the bands, carefully and neatly rearranging themselves to fit new locations, while the startled passengers cheered, applauded or winced, depending on their temperament.

"In her free time, Professor Vector works with her husband on his Curse-breaking research and with Professor Dumbledore to try to get her asocial bat of a brother out of his dungeons once in awhile."

Snape's glare at Lupin should have ignited the werewolf's tux, but Lupin merely waved cheekily as the bands of light from Professor Vector's wand took on yet another color change. A secondary set of strands wove through the stadium now, capturing the supporting columns and weaving around the walls so that it took on the appearance of a glowing wicker work basket.

"Professor Vector offers one week of her time to assist in the arithmanical development and placement of the spells that every witch and wizard should have guarding his or her home."

The bands of light tightened, crackled once, and then snapped straight. Then they vanished completely and the entire stadium rang like a bell. It was a moment before the astonished audience realized what they were seeing. Vector stood cool and beautiful on the stage, seemingly unfazed by her herculean effort. The entire stadium, and every single person and item with it, had been rotated along an axis, while she had remained unmoving, thus bringing the stage to her. Silence reigned for one brief moment and then the crowd went crazy with applause.

"50 galleons!" called the tallest member of the Goblin contingent in the Minister's box.

"Come, you can do better than that," replied the amused voice of Alonzo Vector. His wife and Lupin both beamed at him.

Lucius, meanwhile, was too busy arguing with Fudge about whether or not he actually had been having phone calls from the Dark Lord, and if so, why, and what was he, Fudge, to do about the misplaced trust. They were speaking in such precise, delicate, and vague terms that no one could tell what they were actually saying. Slytherin fans the world over would give the conservation at least a 9.5, if not a perfect 10.

"60 galleons," came the firm offer from Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror office, who was also monitoring both arguments in the top box with sadistic, if wary, glee.

"75 galleons," the goblins came back.

"85 galleons," shouted the representative of the Daily Prophet.

Thus, the battle began.

The goblins were starting to punctuate their bids with threats. The Auror was capping his with accidental sparks from the tip of his wand. The Daily Prophet people were casing theirs with hasty scribbles on suspicious-looking pieces of paper. When the figures had reached 300 galleons, all the combatants were glaring at each other with faces white with worry and nostrils flared in contempt. Through the fury following all three speaking at once, a single, small, and decisive voice was heard from the back.

"350 galleons."

There were cries of rage as the three combatants rounded on each other, arguing vigorously about which of them more truly deserved the professor's services, and ignoring that a new bidder had entered the fray. Lupin rolled his eyes and did his count while the annoyed parties continued to wrangle. When he dropped his gavel, closing the sale, they all turned and glared holes in him.

"You're a werewolf!" the Daily Prophet man asserted angrily.

"Really?" said Lupin, dryly. "I wondered why my socks always looked chewed on after the full moon."

Dumbledore laughed merrily, and for some reason, that set the whole audience off to merriment.

Professor Vector returned daintily to her seat while this was going on.

"Who was that, anyway?" Snape demanded in a completely petulant voice.

Vector smiled. "That, my dear brother, was the Director of St. Mungo's. It seems Malfoy might have won something at this auction after all. Or at least his money did. They consider me a very good cause."

"It's all mad," Snape replied grimly.

"Honestly, Severus, I can't imagine you trying to look perky enough for a bake sale, so quit griping."

And while he might have sneered the hide right off of anyone else, he merely raised an eyebrow at her and contemplated ways to vanish before his turn, which was obviously coming very, very soon.

* * *

_The nature of these professors relationship came to me completely arbitrarily, based on some theories I ran into on my favorite board, and on their names. You don't have to agree with me. But you have to laugh at the idea of Snape with a beautiful twin._


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: The Beginning of the End**

Tonks sashayed back onto the stage, clutching a wide-eyed, hysterical looking little darling in her arms. The fuzzy, lion-looking little sweetheart turned wide, wild eyes on the excited crowd and mewed plaintively, causing Tonks to pet her sweet pointy ears and clutch her closer.

Lupin grinned fondly and accepted the bewildered baby kit to show her to the crowd. "This precious little one is a registered, six-week old kneazel kitten, of champion parents, and with all her papers signed and filed. She's had her mandatory potions, also. Donated by kneazel breeder Arabella Figg in honor of her friend, Gryffindor Harry Potter, her line is particularly known for their exceptionally small size. I give you Galadriel's Elf."

Harry was watching the kitten with a particularly wistful, sad look on his face. "That was very sweet of her. I didn't even think to ask, I didn't know."

Ginny smiled up at him, her heart hurting so much for him in that moment. To distract the others, she asked Hermione a question. "Do all kneazels have names like that?"

"Sorta. It's a convention with pure-breds in the muggle world as well. Actually, Crookshanks' mother was a champion - if he were pure, too, his full name would be Abundance's Crookshanks, but he isn't purebred, which is what makes him so wonderful." She got the same bright, happy look she always had when talking about her cat, but shook it off quickly. "You don't usually call them that, though. My dad had a golden retriever with a name like Sister Golden Hairs' Sequin Surprise, but they just called her Sunny."

Ron looked thoughtful. "So Malfoy should be "Evil Yellow-haired Git's Amazing Bouncing Ferret?"

Ginny giggled. Hermione smirked and said, "More like Nasty Blonde Bint's Amazing Bouncing Ferret. They're named for the mother, see."

They all chuckled as the kitten was sold to an excited looking Muggle woman who was buying her for the bouncing little witch they all thought was called Zellar.

"Yeah, well, I dunno what that'd make us, Ginny. Blazing Howler's something or other, though."

Ginny snorted. "Don't ever let her know you said that. Or that I agreed with you."

Harry laughed at this, while Hermione gave them both stern, but merry-eyed glares. "I'll have to remember that."

"Hermione!" Ron protested.

She grinned cheekily. "I may need something from you, some day."

"You can have anything you want," he said vehemently, coming closer so that he could look down at her. "Anything at all," he added, his voice husky and more teasing than teased.

Harry and Ginny turned away, snickering.

"Ok," said Hermione, also huskily. She smiled coyly and moved even closer to him, and raised her arms around his neck. She pulled him down toward her and sighed, a sound of great longing and satisfaction. "I'd like for you," she murmured flirtatiously, raising her flower-like face as though to kiss him, "to do your homework."

At this, they all laughed.

Lupin was holding up a large parchment envelope. "Inside this envelope are all the wonders of Diagon Alley, brought to you by the proprietors of The Leaky Cauldron, Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor, Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, The Magical Menagerie, Eyelops Owl Emporium, Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, Florish & Blotts, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Grigotts Wizarding Bank. The buyer will receive gift certificates, free items, special services, and dinner and a room for two at the Leaky Cauldron for a shopping weekend getaway. This handsome package is the generous gift of the vendors of Diagon Alley, in honor of all the wonderful children at Hogwarts, and in memory of their own happiest days spent there. Let's open this one at 50 galleons, please."

Bids on this one came thick and fast, almost impossible for Lupin to keep up with them all. As the bidding was starting to slow down to the point where only the most affluent were still in the discussion, Lucius Malfoy's converted arm chair suddenly converted itself back into a stadium seat and sent him toppling to the ground. In the Professor's section, Snape and his sister exchanged wicked half-smiles.

The reporters from Witch Weekly pooled their resources and bid 150 galleons to split the package between them.

Tonks now brought out a vividly purple crate. Lupin grinned and gestured at it grandly.

"What we have here, as the most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would probably attest, is the most amazing assortment of joke and prank products ever to hit Hogwarts and the world. Just think of the damage the Marauders could have done with this menagerie, Minerva." He twinkled vividly at his former Head of House, who shook her head slowly, then looked up at him and smiled.

"You did enough damage on your own, Mister Lupin."

He bowed, all cheeky-respectful. "This very special package has been brought to you by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop of joke shops... Fred, George, you really need to hire a marketing department."

From their seats with their frazzled mother, the Weasley twins smiled innocently at him. "Thanks for volunteering, Professor," they announced in their usual perfect unison.

"The contents include a Basic Blaze box of Weasley's Wildfire Whizbangs, several Skiving Snackboxes, an assortment of pranks, charms, and potions, and just about everything a wild child's heart could desire."

Ernie came running up the back stairs. "We've decided to go in together and buy this, Potter, are you in?"

"Yeah, fine," said Harry. "Hermione?"

"Why not," she agreed, with a shrug. "Heaven knows what fascinating items they have in there."

Ernie turned to the Weasleys with his usual pompous smile. "I can let you in Ron, Ginny, but Merlin knows you've probably seen enough of the stuff to make you sick by now."

"Tested, more to the point," said Ginny with a shudder. "Count me out."

Ron sighed. "I really don't want to know, either."

"I have to admit this was much more impressive than a bake sale," Ernie said fatuously. "Wouldn't you agree?"

They all grinned and Harry passed him a handful of galleons. "You all can catch me up later," he said. "Just make sure you do, I already owe a pile for something."

Lupin was finishing his sales pitch as Ernie left. "This package is of course donated by Fred and George Weasley, in honor of their Gryffindor siblings, Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter, and with special fondness for - I quote - their Mum-away-from-Mum, Minerva McGonagall."

The others were too busy watching McGonagall as she burst into tears to notice how Harry's eyes had grown unusually bright and seemed to be staring straight up without blinking. But Ginny reached back and took his hand in hers. It was comforting to know that Fred and George considered him family, and strangely more comforting to know that Ginny might not.

* * *

_Guess what, folks! Only a few chapters to go. Thanks to everyone for the wonderful ideas - I've had a lot of fun incorporating some of them, and enjoyed all your comments and suggestions. If you think really hard, you'll know who's going under the block next. Wish him luck, people - he's REALLY going to need it!_


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Brew Glory**

With a grandiose florish of his wand, Lupin blanketed the entire stage in a cloud of heavy fog. A single flick put him back in wizard's robes before he banished the cloud. The robes he wore looked rather like they had been borrowed from Dumbledore – borrowed, then embellished. He sparked, he glowed, he grinned in triumph.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've all been waiting for. Severus Snape, you sly and sinister Slytherin, you're in for it now!"

Snape rose, dark and imposing, from his chair, looked around him briefly, and finally, faintly, smiled. It was a rather terrifying thing to see. He reached into his night dark cloak, pulled out a small crystal vial, and studied it in the light, for a quick second. Then he dropped it. There was a brief pause, and the vial exploded into a shower of sparks that shot up into the early twilight and turned the whole professors' section blinding white. Into that intense light, the tall, slender shadow disappeared.

"Severus Snape, at the age of 18 years, earned the distinction as the youngest modern British wizard to receive his Potions' Mastery, trumping the previous record by a full week."

Snape reappeared now, hovering a foot off the ground, bat-like and brooding, his greasy hair hanging in curtains around his face. He pulled out three more vials, uncorked them with a wave of his wand, and hurled each into a different section of the stands. The air above the stands exploded into a rain of green stars and shiny silver snakes, which turned into ribbons as they fell, while the stars turned into a torrent of glittering confetti.

"Professor Snape began his career at Hogwarts as Master of Potions in 1980. He became Head of Slytherin House in 1982 and carries that title to this day. He is particularly famous for the invention of the Amortentia Potion as part of his Mastery Project, and for a singing voice well known throughout the wizarding world."

Snape glared at Lupin, raised another vial and, to the stunned applause of the whole room, started it snowing over the entire stadium. It melted and vanished before it touched the heads it sifted toward, but there was a veritable blizzard surrounding the vial and the wizard holding it. He had vanished again.

"Professor Snape is also the author of a series of books on jinxes, hexes, and curses, but refuses to divulge his pen name in order to protect his anonymity." The snow swirled around the stage, covering everything in a complete white out. The audience applauded, many looking surprised or confused. It was almost unbelievable that a man, clad from head to toe in deep, light-bending black could disappear so thoroughly in a patch of icy white.

The snow cleared abruptly to the Professor and his former adversary standing, regarding each other with wary eyes on the stage. Snape pulled out one last vial. A silent toast to the audience and he raised it to his lips, gulping it down, tossing his head back to take in every drop. Before he had even lowered his head, he began to glow. As the effect spread, everything about him seemed to change. His body appeared to grow straighter, stronger. His robes changed from the black-hole color to a whirling, wheeling pattern in rich fabric and several shades of green. His hands, clenching the vial, retained their usual slender, elegant shape, but his nails were abruptly clean and manicured. The potion stains disappeared, and the sallow color retreated to a rosy, luminous alabaster. He raised his head to peer at the audience, a suddenly somber, delicate figure, shining in his own nimbus that seemed to swirl with light and dark in equal measure. His nose, formerly a beak-like ship's prow starting from his face, now bore a certain regal dignity, and his empty eyes seemed to shine with ineffable understanding. He was radiant, transcendent, all chiaroscuro and beautiful.

The witches, and not a few of the wizards started to their feet, screaming as though he came with the Weird Sisters. "Professor Snape," Lupin continued over the volume, "offers one week of his time to produce selected potions for your home or business, offer brewing instruction, and design a brewing schedule to suit your needs."

"Finally worked out that 'Brew Glory' bit, have you?" he asked Snape in an aside.

Snape's voice was still the same sandpaper-over-satin texture as before. "Get stuffed, Fuzzy," he sneered, though the sneer had lost all effect with the nimbus gentling his features.

Lupin smiled. "You could've been brewing your philters for some worse cause, you know."

"Bother," said Snape. He had obviously tried his usual snarl, but neither his words nor his appearance allowed it.

In the audience, a canny buyer watched. He turned to his companion with a wicked grin, and his companion grinned back. "Aren't you glad this isn't a Bake Sale?" murmured the first.

"Oh yes," agreed the second and, as the bidding began, raised his number.

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Evil cliffie! Hee hee. Don't worry, the next is finished, you'll see it soon. Don't forget to review! 


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: In Your Wildest Dreams**

Lucius Malfoy had surprised them all. He sat quietly on the edge of his seat, never lifting his number into the air, never so much as touching it. Even the Minister of Magic was eyeing him with no little surprise, but the Order of the Phoenix had not fought him this far just to let him get away at very nearly the last possible second.

Meanwhile, down in the rest of the arena, it seemed that suddenly everybody wanted a piece of the utterly unpleasant man whose potion had turned him into something verging on the divine. A number of witches had offered bids on him, including Nymphadora Tonks and, perhaps not so surprisingly under the potion's influence, the press witches in the Witch Weekly box.

The bidding soon moved out of the average wizard's price range, but continued still with the affluent. Through it all, one number hung in the air above its owner's head, and occasionally flapped forward to remind Lupin to count it. Snape's eyes were wide with fear, as that number continued to hover, reflecting the obvious determination of the bidder to win. His second worst nightmare ever was coming true right before his fathomless eyes and, caught in the thrall of his own potion, he couldn't do a thing about it. 

As the bidding reached 300 galleons, Malfoy's hand suddenly shot into the air, holding his number. Lupin sighed and noted it, but saw sudden movement out of the corner of his eye.

"310," he said, "from Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. 320?"

The other number stayed in the air. Snape turned alarmingly pale and actually looked desperately at Lucius, begging the older man with his eyes.

"350, Potter and Longbottom. 375?" Lupin asked the other bidder, who's bewitched number waggled at him.

Lucius smirked and, with a nod and a wicked, vicious smile, lowered his number. No one looking at him in that moment, as Snape's face turned the same green as the swirls in his robes, could have doubted for an instant that he was an evil almost as dangerous as Voldemort. His companions, the supposed-Nott and Minister Fudge, both scooted away from him.

Lupin looked off stage at the smirking Harry, while Snape whimpered. Harry gestured a message "Let them have him," it said. The werewolf's face split into a grin easily as vicious as Malfoy's.

"Sold for 375 galleons," he declaimed in the voice of doom, "to Mssrs. Fred and George Weasley."

Snape thought that voice was rather appropriate.

He left the stage, sadly with a graceful, delicate step, not even able to manage his usual sweeping, billowing gait, and descended the stairs toward the seats. He drew his wand, his eyes wild and wary, hoping desperately to forestall the inevitable as long as possible.

"Here," said a voice to his left, "eat this." A hand came up suddenly on his right as he opened his mouth to protest and popped an orange candy into his mouth.

Snape tried to spit it out, but it dissolved instantly, and the very next thing he realized was that he had abruptly sprouted a very long beard - a bright, Weasley red beard. "What have you done?" he asked. He would have preferred "demanded harshly" but the previous potion prevented it.

"Odd..." said one twin, looking at his hair closely.

"Didn't expect the beard..." said the other, tugging at it.

Snape would have screamed, but couldn't. He conjured a mirror and studied himself. Of all the vile... he looked like a young Dumbledore. "I would have expected better of you, boys. Surely you know the two potions reacting would probably have an unusual effect. Precisely what were you hoping for?" He sighed. He even SOUNDED like a young Dumbledore.

"New product," said the one on his right. "Instant Weasleys."

"Yeah, we figured they'd react," said the other, "but we thought you'd get green hair, not a Headmaster 'do."

"What'd you expect? A pink apron for a Bake Sale?"

"I suppose you'll have me testing your products then?"

"No, we're going to do something even better than that," said one, with a grin that would have sent the Marauders into retirement.

"You, Professor, are going to help us create the best prank product ever invented," finished the other, whose matching grin would have sent any sane Dark Lord into retirement. Sadly, of course, the current model was barking mad.

Snape sighed. "Very well," he said, silently furious with himself for taking that potion. It was stilling and gentling everything - he couldn't even panic properly, and he very much wanted to run screaming right now. "Is next Tuesday good for you?"

"Excellent," they said in that annoying unison.

"See you then."

"And if you're not there..."

"...we'll come find you."

Muttering to himself, he went back to his seat. Dumbledore took one look at him and, eyes twinkling fit to ignite a small brush fire, started laughing.

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_I got the idea for the "Instant Weasleys" from a 2004 fic by loralee1. It's very short, and on my C2 if you'd like to read it. Last chapter coming up - we still have a few things to deal with before we sync back up at Canon._


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Give Me the Chocolate, and No One Gets Hurt**

"Well, that's it, then, isn't it?" asked Ron, checking and rechecking his figures on a piece of parchment. "I don't think we got as much as we wanted, but it's certainly everything we expected."

"No," said Ginny, and that wicked grin was back, "there's still one more item. I stashed it for last, and we really, really need to sell it, now."

"OK," said Harry. "Does Remus know?"

Ginny turned that grin onto the werewolf auctioneer, who was blinking, startled, at a brilliantly flashing Tonks. "Oh, he does now."

Tonks was bringing out a heavy item in an ornate container. Remus turned away from the audience, took the card from the top, and opened the box. Whatever was inside made him blink in surprise. "Well, alright, then," he muttered to Tonks, turned back to the audience, and set his enchanted smile firmly in place.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our final lot for the evening. A chocolate cake."

Everyone stared at him blankly as Tonks moved forward, carrying the heavy cake in its enchanted container. Lupin twinkled insanely at them, thinking how mad Molly would be when she heard the name her sixth son had invented for the thing just before the auction.

"It's not just any chocolate cake, folks. It's that rarest of marvels, a five pound, genuine Molly Weasley Chocolate-Cheering-Charm Pound Cake. I understand there's only two people in all the Wizarding world who have the recipe." He grinned at Molly, who was sputtering indignantly. "And, if we don't hurry, your Wild Werewolf Auctioneer will eat it himself!"

Harry looked down at Ginny. "Two people?" he asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Prewett family secret," he said, as though it was the most daft thing he'd ever heard. "Only Mum and Ginny get to know the recipe."

"Yep," said Ginny, looking cutely arrogant. "Mum says she won't even pass it on to her daughters-in-law unless they can cook." She turned to Hermione and appraised her briefly. "Can you cook, Hermione?" she asked, falsely innocent.

Hermione blushed.

Lucius Malfoy sat trembling in his seat, remembering what the Dark Lord had told him. He knew he wouldn't get away with a tin of biscuits from Fortescue's, not with this item on the block, not if the Heir of Slytherin heard about it, and of course, he would hear about it. "Thirty galleons," he said with a sigh.

Lupin's eyes bugged. "Thirty galleons, folks. Mister Malfoy is hungry."

"Thirty-five galleons," offered a creepy looking old man in the front row. Lucius suspected it of being Mad-eye Moody. Who else would offer thirty-five galleons for a chocolate cake of questionable quality?

"Forty galleons," Lucius stated coldly.

"Forty-five galleons," came an offer from the center section, half-way up. A large, balding black man with an earring in his ear turned around and smirked.

"Fifty-five," Lucius snarled.

"Sixty," said a small and cheery witch from the other side of the stands from him.

"Seventy-five galleons," Lucius offered in his most charming voice. Fudge was staring at him.

"Eighty-five," piped the chirping little voice of Daedalus Diggle, holding up his number and still too short to be really seen - he and Flitwick were cousins.

"Ninety," said Lucius, finally realizing what they were up to. They were all going to pay for this.

"One hundred," said Wormtail from his polyjuice disguise as Theodore Nott.

"Charming," Lucius muttered.

"You did say he thought it was a Bake Sale," replied the theoretical Nott.

"One ten," said Dumbledore.

"One twenty," countered Lucius.

"One fifty!" cried Wormtail, enthusiastically.

"Shut up!" Lucius growled, jumping to his feet. He reached into his cloak and opened his wallet. He looked at the charmed total on the tag and sighed. "One thousand eight hundred forty seven galleons, 13 sickles, and 6 knuts," he announced defiantly.

No one moved or spoke. The sound of a tiny wild golden snitch was heard in the distance. You could have heard an Ashwinder crawling. Then, Lupin dropped his fist to the podium. "Sold to Mr. Lucius Malfoy for 1847 galleons, 13 sickles, and 6 knuts."

The crowd broke out into insane cheers. Malfoy sat down and sighed, watching the money vanish from his wallet, automatically transferring into the Hogwarts accounts. The things he did for the Dark Lord.

In the front row, sitting between her two prankster sons, Molly Weasley fainted.

_

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	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: The End**

Dumbledore and Lupin were thanking every body for their help and generosity and the crowds were getting to their feet to make their way to the exits.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on?" demanded Fudge.

"Just endeavoring to contribute well," Lucius replied smoothly, and turned to look at "Nott" with an oily smile. The smile dropped off his face as he realized what he was seeing.

"I still don't know if all this was such a good idea, Lucius," Wormtail said in a piping voice. The potion had completely worn off and, in his excitement, the little rat had obviously forgotten to take it. "I mean, I don't know how you talked him into it in the first place, he always says he needs me nearby. Are you sure he really wanted you to bring him a cake?"

Lucius went stark white and pulled out his wand. Wormtail, seeing this, ducked suddenly as six stunning spells shot at the place where he had been standing. Fudge, frightened, hit the floor. "You... you... DEATH EATER!" he shouted as though betrayed.

Lucius reached for Wormtail, suddenly his only leverage. The miserable excuse for a wizard did what he was best at, though, and quickly turned himself into a rat, making for the nearest exit with stunning spells firing rapidly behind him. As the rat made it out of the arena, there was an enormous bang of apparation, and Wormtail vanished.

Lucius turned his wand on Fudge, only to find it flying from his hand and into the stands. He realized who had done this and turned to look into the black eyes of his fellow Death Eater and saw nothing in the dark gaze that looked back at him, nothing, not even anger. It shook him to the very core.

He was relieved, however, to see that Snape held his cake in the other hand. At least there was a good chance the Dark Lord would get the chocolate he required, even if Pettigrew showed up without the bubble bath… Lucius stopped himself, wondering how he could have possibly be concerned over what an apple-scented bubble bather would do to him.

"Summon the Dementors," Scrimgeour snapped over his left shoulder, "haul the evil sod back to Azkaban and may he rot there."

Dumbledore himself bound Lucius in anti-apparation chains and anti-transfiguration charms. "Now you see," he said to Scrimgeour.

Scrimgeour nodded sharply. "What will you do?"

"A vote of no confidence is going to have to be placed before the Wizengamot in emergency session tonight."

"Dumbledore, no!" Fudge shouted, but even then he cowered under his seat. "I didn't know. Please!"

"I warned you, Cornelius. Several times I told you all of these things. You know all of Britain has requested this vote, and you know what I told you when you chased me from Hogwarts two months ago. Your choices have brought you to this place, not I." He was gone, then, leaving Fudge and his bound erstwhile ally to their separate grief.

Harry looked enormously relieved as he conjured up a chair to watch the rest of the commotion. Lupin came behind the curtain at last, his face pale. "I am going to shoot myself if I don't come off these charms soon," he said in a chipper, friendly voice.

Harry grinned back at him. "Hermione says we can't risk it, they have to wear off. Is Mrs. Weasley ok?"

"She got four requests for cakes before people even left," said Lupin. "And three owls with more. She'll probably be deluged as the rumor spreads."

"Oh. Well, I hope she can still use these," he said.

"Use what?" asked Arthur, coming over to look at them all with poorly disguised delight.

"I... err... I... um..." Harry stopped. "I bought her a present," he whispered, and handed Mr. Weasley the "anonymously purchased" hotel stay. "Don't tell her. Just tell her someone gave them in exchange for a cake."

"But she won't know where to send the cake," said Arthur, trying desperately to find a way to refuse the gift without hurting the boy in front of them.

"It's ok, Dad," said Ginny, coming up beside them. "I'll make it for him." Ginny took Harry's hand in her own, and Harry grinned up at her, then expanded his chair into a seat for both of them.

"I wanted to get her something, Mr. Weasley," said Harry, his green eyes shining with sincerity. "She's given me so much. You all have. She doesn't have to know it came from me. She doesn't NEED to know it came from me. But I need to know she had something from me and enjoyed it."

Arthur sighed. He loved the boy as much as any of his sons. How could he refuse such a sweet, kind gesture? It would, after all, be for both of them, and Harry knew it as well as Arthur did. "Very well, son. We'll just keep it to ourselves."

Harry grinned at him, his green eyes lighting up in triumph.

Dumbledore hid in the shadows with McGonagall at his side, watching the scene with brimming blue eyes. "Now that," he said to her in a small whisper, "was worth every minute of this Bake Sale, don't you think?"

She smiled up at him serenely. "So what do I have to do?"

"I dunno," he mused. "I suppose I could have you clean Fawkes' cage." His eyes held a teasing twinkle.

"Not in the contract," she replied, dryly. "Unless you want me to transfigure Phoenix droppings into sherbet lemons, you're out of luck."

His laughter was a musical rumble, a rarely heard but merry, puckish thing. When he finally managed to stop, she was still gazing at him with haughty, but sparkling eyes. He drew himself up, the very picture of wounded innocence, and said, "Why, my dear Minerva, what a thing to suggest."

_

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And that, folks, is the end. Read, review, let us know how we did. And enjoy Deathly Hallows in all its glory this hallowed eve._


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